You wake up in the morning, you’ve got to read all the papers, the kids are running around, you’ve got to mow the lawn, wash the car, and you think

Sunday. Bloody Sunday

With a few adjustments to the woes listed by Alan Partridge , I often do think the same. They’re doomful. It’s a whole day off work, but laced with doom and tedium. Not to be dramatic.
However, my fellow mancs, honorary and by birth, yesterday was a different animal altogether.

Imagine the scene.

A bus that drives you around Manchester, dropping you off at various locations for meat treats (it rhymes, you see).

Yeah, bit odd, but yeah…

…I hear you murmur.

But wait.
Imagine that bus but with the addition of a team of chefs cooking up a storm up top, to provide you with mouth watering meaty morsels (alliteration) as you ride between stops.

That can’t be real, that’s insane…

I hear you mutter.
It is. But wait.

Imagine all that, all of that, with a saucy side of beers, beats and bantz! Can’t can you?! I knew it.

It happened and it happened to me one Sunday not too long ago (basically yesterday).

The good people at Meat Lust invited me to board their bus, and enjoy their Sauce & the City tour, round some of Manchester’s foodie favourites.

The ‘dirty food’ revolution is showing no signs of slowing and an integral ingredient of any dirty dish worth its salt is its sauce.

And us lucky carnivorous commuters couldn’t move for it on board.

It is at this point in proceedings that I should point out that all food and drink consumed was of a normal food colour. You can’t have a meat bus (it’s a bus of meat innit) without flashing lights and strobes so don’t be alarmed.

Before we’d even set off to our first destination on the tour, we were handed an amuse bouche of beer and pulled pork nachos.

Despite the disco light disclaimer, this dish really was as pretty as it looks.

One wet wipe later and we pulled up to Crazy Pedro’s.

Braving oncoming traffic, we all bounded across Bridge Street and through the doors, for a slice of the action…

Cashew nuts, chillis and curry sauce were the stars of the show. Eye-watering for some poor, soft souls (i.e. me), the slices were hot to trot but tasty all the same.

Before we got on the bus and caused no fuss…well basically nothing, but it’s good to paraphrase an Oasis lyric in a Manchester blog, despite the passing decades.

Anyway, fuss free, back on the bus we were handed our next meaty morsel:

Forgive my vagueness but there was a lot of meat going down that fateful Sunday (yesterday) and so I will describe it as thus – sausage, brioche, sauces and loveliness.

Paired with this delightful morsel, we were handed a Punk IPA as a teaser for our next stop – beer tasting at Brewdog:

Our hops host, Seb? took us through the unique history of the brewer and taught us how to taste beer.

Sniff, sniff, sniff, sniiiiiiiff and then gulp

Naturally my gulp was more of a sip and a choke (I can’t take instruction) but I did get notes of lemons and limes, I’ll have you know.

Also have you heard of mouthfeel? Mouthfeel.

I don’t want to talk about it. I put that word up there with foodbaby and moist.

I’m going to admit bowing out of our beer tasting meat chaser. It’s not Meat Lust, it’s me. Parked up in Stevenson Square, even if I had got past the rabbit and black pudding (albeit wrapped in pancetta), the whipped cream would have sent me and my mouthfeel under.

However, it has to be said that I heard a number of my fellow meatbusers that it was the best yet. More fool me.

It was time to move on with a lamb fajita (secret ingredient popcorn which weirdly and seriously worked) and a Tickety Brew set against a delightful denim backdrop…

Like a more civilised, less terrifying, and altogether fun version of the 192 nightbus home, spirits were high and we came to our final stop on our tour, Sugar Ray’s in the Northern Quarter.

Ray and his people specialise in dogs and waffles. Hotdogs. ‘Franks’. It took me longer than decent to work out what a frank was, it has to be said.

All this set against a Studio 54 soundtrack, it’s a great place to visit even when not being taken there on a meat bus.

Back on the bus (despite our high spirits, we caused no fuss), we made our way back to the depot (B.EAT St on Deansgate), it was time for our pudding. That is, a savoury pudding.

Now I had an amazing pun all lined up for this last tasting. One of my better ones. Alas, today I realised that my original play on words is the tagline for one of Manchester’s newest food outlets.

Still I’m going with it (good work Taberu).

This last saucy surprise was a fluffy steamed bun, filled with pork and spicy sauce.

Final foodstuff? Take a bao.

To sum up my saucy Sunday, Meat Lust served up a top three hour tour filled with mouthwatering meat, fine Manchester beats, a generous serving of bus beers and plenty of onboard laughs along the way.
Sticky fingers crossed, the tour returns to Manchester again soon.

It’s 2pm and I’m sat in a coffee shop, writing about the etiquette of working in a coffee shop. The more I worry, the more I write about the worry, the longer I spend here, the more I worry. The circle of strife.

This wasn’t my original intention. I was going to blog about Foundation Coffee House. This is where I am. This is where I worry (it has to be said, not exclusively). I still will.

Foundation Coffee House, Lever Street

Coffee shop etiquette is certainly not a new topic. It’s been been very well documented and advised upon for years. I, myself, have progressed well since I took my first step some years ago onto the bottom rung of my existingfor a period of time in a coffee shop career. Very well. I made it through the door, for a start. I don’t drink coffee. Or tea. And I can’t even say the word ‘brew’. For whatever reason some sort of inner snob comes out and the concept of the brew repulses me (I’m just scared I’ll be made to make one). Therefore I thought the coffee shop would have nothing to offer me but most of all, consider that I would have nothing to offer it. But I soon learnt of the chilled cabinet of the chilled drink, the high calibre chilled drink. Fancy in its name and branding, beckoning me over:

I’ll provide you with an alibi to your coffee shop loitering, a friend, a companion, an excuse. I am your passport to here. And I promise that my aroma will not cause you to be even a little bit sick in your mouth.

pretty in pink

Yes, I made it through the door of these new-fangled places some time ago. Yet the length of my stay will never not be an issue for me.

Like a good little ball of anxiety, I do my research before going somewhere new. Pleasing reviews and descriptions of Foundation Coffee House.

Particular credit goes to manchesterwire.co.uk for getting me through the door

…(Foundation Coffee House) is massive, minimalist and you can stay all day.

Stay all day. All day. STAY.

Don’t get me wrong, I hate any form of loitering or advantage-taking. And the light bulb moment for me (occasionally, the bulb flickers and blows again) is that the coffee house/shop/palace, whatever, is a living, breathing, ever-evolving extension of your home. Everything’s fluid – we work wherever we are, whenever we want (give or take the availability of a plug socket after so long – I’m with Apple so every god-forsaken 5 minutes).

the iphone user’s heroin. and heroine. if plug sockets are like boats and feminine. freud would probably support this

Again, the above isn’t a revelatory comment, but a reason why the common or garden coffee shop (sorry Starbucks) has little to do with Foundation Coffee House and an increasing number of other outlets predominately in the Northern Quarter, and popping up throughout the rest of the city. They’re spaces to carry on your day – all for the price of a drink.

that there in the middle be a meeting room

It’s now 3.20pm and the space has filled up nicely and I’m feeling more at ease. It’s a huge space, situated on Lever Street, in a Grade II listed building. It’s sectioned off nicely into different seating arrangements – tables, benches, booths and the obligatory outward- looking window perch. That’s where I decided to base both myself and my worry. I like people watching, I found a plug socket (I’m sure there are many dotted about) and I can’t be seen from the counter. I’m not hiding, per se, more preserving my anonymity for when the inevitable lurking charges are brought against me.

Indeed, from the off, the innocent…

See you again…

from the pleasant man behind the counter had set me off into a ‘oh god I’m not to stay. It’s assumed I’m off‘ type panic, that sent me straight to the other side of the place.

the nervous blogger’s eye view

Fears allayed all round. Various groups and individuals come and go. Talking, working, typing, sipping, and basically just being here.

That’s my summary of Foundation Coffee House. It’s perfectly ok to just be here. Don’t go overboard and not buy your ticket to type – there’s a fantastic choice of hot drinks (if you have to like that sort of thing), smoothies, various soft drinks in the chiller; and light refreshments.

desperate stuff – someone else’s coffee cup

I won’t pretend to understand the nuances of coffee culture, and I’m not going to do the title ingredient justice at all, but the blurb on the back of the drinks menu tells me it’s…

…traceable, sustainable coffee from bean to cup.

There you have it. I’ve been here almost two hours without a hint of judgement or discomfort (not self inflicted) and I reckon I have another hour in me to play with Instagram and work out what the hell im doing with Pinterest, before I move on. I’ll even pay another trip to the counter (although someone guard my plug point…). I’ll definitely be back.

Oh, a quality sipping, talking, meeting, reading, writing soundtrack too. The Who, The Kinks, The Zombies and other various Thes.

So remember, it’s ok to be here at Foundation Coffee House. If you’re like me, there’s no finer praise indeed.

Epilogue

5pm – just finished adding in my photos and I’m still here – without judgement and hassle but with 100% phone battery.